


A12

by clio



Series: vending machine [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Platonic Relationships, Post-Olympics, Post-Pyeonchang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 07:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14637306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clio/pseuds/clio
Summary: Skating free, she’s come to understand, does not come without a price, but if it means packaged snacks for dinner, that’s something she’s more than willing to endure.





	A12

With a frustrated sigh, she tosses her phone onto the bench where she sits, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. Another day, another breaking story with only her name slandered across the headlines. She knew that switching coaches would be seen as nothing short of treasonous, but she had underestimated just how far her former coach would take it. Even now, months later, and with her tucked away on a different continent, that woman spins claim after claim that threaten to tarnish her reputation, her career, and what she’s worked her whole life to build.

And Evgenia had supposedly been her favorite.

It’s late at the skating club. Only a few staff members remain and several rooms have already been closed down for the day, casting much of the club in shadows. It is a little eerie, but Evgenia prefers it this way. The lights may not shine as brightly, but she feels more relaxed when she skates under them.

Grabbing her jacket, she slips it on and makes her way towards the vending machines. The club has something like a kitchen, but it, too, has long shut down for the night, which means she’s left with the fine dining options from the machine that has definitely seen better days. Skating free, she’s come to understand, does not come without a price, but if it means packaged snacks for dinner, that’s something she’s more than willing to endure. 

She takes her time perusing over this evening’s selections while she fishes out a couple of crumpled bills from her pockets. Going for what she thinks is the safest bet--a cereal bar--she feeds in her money and makes her selection, crouching down to wait for her dinner to drop. 

“A12,” a familiar voice calls out from behind her. 

Surprised, she gasps and spins around to face him. His hair is shorter than she last remembered it, and he seems a lot healthier too. With his casual clothing and freshly-scrubbed face, she could almost forget he is the two-time and reigning Olympic gold medalist in his respective discipline. _Almost_ , because there’s no ignoring either the plaque on the wall with his name on it nor the sparkle in his eye that betrays it. Even with him smiling so easily at her, his whole demeanor radiates the confidence of a champion.

“What?” she asks, confused. If she’s honest, she’s a little embarrassed that he’s caught her getting sugary snacks from the vending machine, of all places. Definitely not how she thought their first meeting as new training mates would happen.

Instead of answering, he just shakes his head and crosses over to where she's standing, dropping a few coins into the machine and selecting A12. They stand in silence as they watch a chocolate bar drop into the slot below.

“I didn’t think you liked these things,” she gestures to the chocolate bar in his hand. It is an odd feeling, talking to him like this and in this space. For so long, she had only seen this club as something like another realm, somewhere far away where he and Javier and a handful of other competitive skaters trained. Never in a million years did she think she would ever be one of those skaters.

And as much as she’s happy--and she is, she absolutely is--to be here, it still doesn’t quite feel like it’s hers. Like she belongs there. Not for lack of trying on anyone’s behalf. Brian, Tracy, David, even Gabby and Elizabet have all been so welcoming that on more than one occasion it has made her want to cry. Truly, she's grateful for their efforts, but she also can't help still feeling a little out of place, a little on the outside. And that has more to do with her than anyone else.

“I don’t,” he replies, grinning shamelessly. “But there are two pieces. One for you. One for me. We share.” 

“Oh,” she holds up her cereal bar, ready to protest. “I’ll be ok with this.”

“Yes, ok,” he nods in agreement. “That help you skate better. But the chocolate help us feel better.”

Evgenia can only blink at him.

“Come on,” he says before grabbing the handle of the suitcase containing his skates. “Let’s skate.”

She tries her best to catch up to him while waddling with her skate guards on. They settle onto the bench where her phone awaits her, likely full of more distressing news. She slips it into her bag. 

While Yuzuru laces up his skates, she quietly chews on her cereal bar, observing him while she can. It has been weeks since she’s last seen him, and months, really, since she’d last had the opportunity to exchange more than just pleasantries with him. Not since the Olympics, she figures. His time after the games was spent being celebrated in ice shows and a parade in his hometown. She had seen the pictures of it on the internet. Was amazed at how well-loved and admired he was by his country. As always, he was something to aspire to. 

It was a strange and funny thing. For as much as their careers had been seen and described as being something similar, gold had not been the color that hung around her neck when she left Pyeongchang. There had not been any parades to welcome her home. If their stories were supposed to be the same, Evgenia felt that she wasn’t holding up her end of the deal.

“How is it?” he asks her, jarring her from her thoughts. “Do you like it here?”

She’s quick to nod. “Yes, it’s good. Everyone is nice,” she says before quietly adding, “Um, thank you, again, for what you said before. It helped me make my decision.”

He shakes his head. “You already want to come. You don’t need my permission. Or Javi’s.”

It was true, in a way. When she had approached Yuzuru and Javier, yes, she wanted to know what it was like to train with Brian, but if she were honest, she also wanted their opinion about her switching coaches at this point in her career, and, perhaps even wanted their approval. Because she could have gone to train with another coach, a Russian one even, one that was closer to home and spoke her language and didn’t make her learn the fundamentals all over again from the beginning. She could have gone to at least half a different coaches that would have been easier than going to Brian at the Cricket Club. But she hadn't.

Yuzuru had immediately seen right through her, knew exactly what she was really asking. He could have said anything, something vague and trite about what it was like to be coached by Brian Orser, an answer he likely gave to the press time and time again, but he hadn’t. 

It was Yuzuru who told her that it was going to be hard, especially at the beginning. That she would likely get frustrated. That Brian’s way of coaching took time to produce results. Yuzuru hadn’t sugarcoated his words, nor had he given false promises. And neither did he betray her by talking about what she had asked him, even when he had been dragged into the whole messy ordeal by the press. He had been honest with her and kept her secrets, and for that she would always be grateful. 

“How is your ankle?” she asks once he has both skates laced.

“Better,” comes the automatic reply. “How’s your foot?”

“Better, too.”

A hint of a smile teases at his lip. Nodding in acknowledgement, he gives his laces one last tug before standing up. “Ok, let’s go.”

She follows him onto the ice, fully expecting that they would take their separate sections of the rink to train. But instead of skating away from her, he surprises her by matching her stroke for stroke around the ice. She doesn’t mind it, however, and is happy to find that she welcomes the company. 

“Can I see your axel?” she asks after a while, limbs loose from the warm up. 

He shoots her a grin, before skating away, picking up speed before launching into a triple axel. She applauds his landing and cheers for him as he makes his way over to her, spraying her slightly with ice. 

“Your turn!” he says while urging her gently with his hands on her back. 

Taking off towards the other end of the rink, she jumps and lands her best jump--a triple loop--with a flourish because she knows he’s watching. When she looks back at the other side of the rink, Yuzuru is holding up three fingers and giving her a thumbs up. 

They continue to challenge each other to different jumps and spins. Eventually ending up chasing each other around the rink in a game of follow-the-leader’s-choreographic-moves, their laughter wild and echoing throughout the nearly abandoned rink. Gliding across the ice, Evgenia once again feels that sense of freedom, but this time, accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of joy. She had a goal, a dream to achieve, and it was important to keep that in the front of her mind because it would be what got her through the difficult months and years ahead of her until the next Olympics, but it was as equally important for her to remember that skating was fun. She was good at it, yes, but she also loved it.

Breathless and her throat itching from laughter, she came to a stop in front of Yuzuru, who was equally as winded and looked as joyful.

“Smiling is good,” he says after a moment of selecting his words carefully. She looks at him and finds his gaze on trained on her. “I think you’re worried for many things.”

She digs her toe pick into the ice. “It’s natural, no?” she tries to joke but her accompanying smile looks more like a grimace. “Everything is new here.” 

It wasn’t just the new coaching staff, the new club. It was the new city and a new apartment, and the four long years ahead of her until the next Olympics. It was her still injured foot and the mounting pressure from her federation to make sure her gamble paid off. It was not knowing if she had made the right decision. Not knowing if she could see it through to the end.

She felt so far away -- from her home, from her dream, from where she thought she would be. She felt fragmented, so loosely bound that a strong wind was all it would take to topple her completely. 

Yurzuru considers her for a long time, head tilted. “I know it’s scary situation. And I can understand you, because I was you,” he says and she tries to remember that he had stood in her place once. A transplant, confused and probably a little lonely, and not at all certain this was going to work out. “But fear can be good too. Use it to be stronger. Just focus on one thing at a time and work hard. I promise it will be better.” 

Her eyes are already starting to sting, but she refuses to cry. “Thank you for saying that,” she manages, although her voice is thick with emotion. It meant a lot that he was encouraging her and she took comfort in it.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the chocolate bar from earlier, a mischievous look sparking in his eyes.

“See? Chocolate make us feel better,” he repeats and she laughs, accepting the chocolate from him. She has to admit, as she nibbles on her piece, that he’s right.

Despite what people think, or what the press publishes, they aren’t particularly close. As someone older than her and quite literally her idol, he had always seemed somewhat unreachable. He was, of course, gracious around her and always maintained his general sense of friendliness. Yuzuru had an incredible gift where could level the full weight of his undivided attention on you and make you feel like the most important person in the world, and then walk away ever the enigma. As an intensely private person, he was excellent at creating a false sense of intimacy with people outside of his most trusted circle. 

And while it might have been true that they had a familiarity that could be interpreted as being a close friendship, given just how few close friendships he had within the world of skating, it was also true that they didn’t confide in one another or hold each other’s secrets. At least, not until recently. 

So it wasn’t just that he was skating with her or that they were sharing a sugary chocolate bar. It was that he hadn’t needed to do any of it, really. They had just spent the better part of an hour just messing around instead of training, and that was no small thing. They could have exchanged a few words and tucked into their respective ends of the ice rink, and that would have been fine. More than fine, actually, since they were both there for a reason, and that reason wasn’t to play games. This wasn’t like gala rehearsals or ice show practices. And it didn’t feel like it either. 

As they skate around one another, it feels, instead, a little bit like a step towards something new. Unable and unwilling yet to give it a name, Evgenia instead reaches out and grabs his hands, giving them a squeeze in gratitude just as the rink’s closing is announced. Yuzuru’s answering squeeze is enough to ground her. To make her think that even if she feels fragmented now, this is a place she could put down roots and not be overcome by even the strongest of winds. 

They skate to the edge of the ice and swap their skates for their trainers. “Any other recommendations?” she asks as they pass by the vending machine.

He laughs aloud, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, don’t waste money. Brian has food in his office,” he says. “2nd drawer. You don’t have to ask. Just take and he always buy more.” 

Evgenia can’t help but return his smile, her whole chest feeling infinitely lighter than when she arrived at the rink. She has no idea what the future holds for her, but for now, being in this place and surrounded by these people, it is enough. And as her eyes slide over to the plaques where the names of champions who have gone before her are raised, for the first time she feels her heart skip with excitement for all the things she has in her to show to the world. 

“Why are you laughing?” Yuzuru asks as he holds the door open for her.

“The really should have put your Pyeongchang plaque under your Sochi one,” she responds. “The order looks funny that way.”

Yuzuru groans. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

She laughs and follows him outside.

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd and written in a haze at 4am. oops.


End file.
